


Twigs & Twine

by samjohnsson



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samjohnsson/pseuds/samjohnsson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let childhood toys be left to childhood.<br/>AN: kesomon - I blame you. ^.- And boldly crossing over where no crossover should go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twigs & Twine

She's still got the sword.

It's not that she was nostalgic or anything. Not that she saved it on purpose. She didn't even remember it was there, stored away in the attic, buried among the toy guns and pretty dolls her mother really wanted her to play with. Just two twigs, tied together with a length of twine.

The minute she saw it, the minute she touched it, she knew.

She remembered.

She remembered carrying it into battle. She remembered how it almost whispered, how, when she was holding it, she felt invincible.

She remembered angels, and demons, and the Them.

She remembered Adam. And she knows, she understands why he made them forget. He probably took the scales, the crown back, hid them, destroyed them. She knows now the power in symbol. The power he used. By being who he was, and giving out the symbols, no matter what they were made of, she knows - now - what he did.

And she's glad that he buried the memories, tried to retake the sword, the scales, the crown. Things like that, in the hands of children? She remembers what she was like, as a child, before her parents passed, before she became responsible. She can't even imagine if either of the boys still had their toys.

But she remembers holding on to the sword, hiding it away, in a box, in the attic. And yet still forgotten. Probably Adam's doing again, that.

She's still got the sword.

Oh, not _that_ sword. _That_ sword disappeared after _She_ disappeared. Just vanished. No, she's only got the twigs and twine.

She's still got the sword.

It's fitting, in an odd way, that she ended up working for Tony Stark. Biggest dreamer on the block, and a paragon of war in his own right.

And well, once you remember standing with the Them against Heaven, against Hell, and telling both sides that the plans were cancelled, go back home, the Apocalypse is off, it's really easy to maintain your cool in the face of minor details. Like billing errors. And government contractors. And madmen set on world domination.

Because really? Compared to the combined Hosts? Compared to _Her?_ The Mandarin doesn't quite compare. And someone has to pick the boys up, brush them off, and punch whoever knocked them down. Or file the insurance claims and make sure the lawyers know what to tell the media and which company to blame so their stock price crashes.

She's still got the sword.

It's not the memories of using it. Even she'll admit (to herself, not to a boy, never to the Them, and don't even ask about Tony) that she was scared out of her mind when she held the sword. It wasn't what anyone would call a joyful experience.

It's not desire. She's not a fighter, not as much any more. She can hold her own and stay calm, but to do what Tony does? That's not really her. And besides, she remembers _Her._

It's not curiosity, really. Sure, she's thought about picking it up, out of the locked case she has it hidden in, in the back of her closet. Maybe swing it through the air once or twice, just to see what happens. Just to see if a trace of the old power is in it.

It's not to be equal. She already knows she's equal. Or better.

And it's certainly not that she sometimes thinks she hears a slight whisper, on those quiet nights when the Avengers are out on a mission, or some madman has come remarkably close to taking over the world. Just a quiet trace, not even a whisper, suggesting a solution, a way to help beyond her impeccable organizational skills and infinite patience.

It must be nostalgia. Of the simpler time, when it was just Them. When she was a child and the world was easily conque...experienced. When the end of days could be passed off as a really vivid make-believe. When two sticks tied together became a holy (or unholy, she's still not sure) artifact. She's not even sure why she hasn't been rid of it. Untie it, burn it, even throw it away. Just...get rid of it, put that part of her life behind her. But. It reminds her. Of Brian. Wensleydale. Adam. Of childhood games, and simpler times, and easier solutions.

She's still got the sword.

Maybe she should get a better case. Functionally, the case it's in? Not very secure. The sword is practically laying about. All of her experience with Tony tells her that a weapon lying about will be used. Maybe it should be in the Avengers vault. Or, better, off-world.

But. It's just two twigs, and some twine. If she didn't remember what it was, remember it in her grasp, remember the power that surged through her, she'd not think twice of it. Even so, sitting in its case, in the back of her closet, it's harmless. Just twine. And twigs.

She's still got the sword.


End file.
